Falling for Him

Arya’s POV I was sitting in the living room, waiting for the outcome of the forsaken meeting taking place in the study, while, all I could do was chew on the remnants of the pack of wafers, hoping it would just make me forget the anxiety of this deal. It was either that or an entire pack of cigarettes. I thought better to give my lungs a break. At 27 years, I happen to be living with my parents who are putting up a show to love each other, along with an annoying younger brother, who walks around like a ticking time bomb, ready to blast at any point of the day. He once was my support and strength, but now, my entire family is a sham. I don’t even know how it came to this. Three summers ago, we were one big happy family in New York, with all the luxuries and smiles that one could ask for. We lived in a mansion on the outskirts of Brooklyn. My mom, Agatha Arians, had her own fashion boutique, which she had started with a stitching machine the year she got married to my father, Blane Arians. My brother, Abe Arians, was in the last semester of his college at NYU studying Law and business, gaining all the knowledge to run Arians Legal Inc., a business my father created to soon hand over to his son. I was training to be the VP for the same company to take over along with my brother. When my father's company started gaining a lot of recognition, he soon turned into the busiest man in the world with little to no time for his family. Abe and mom never really saw him, while I would cross paths with him frequently at work, but those encounters were more professional, nothing like a father and a daughter should have. Eventually, he was not seen in the house or even at the office for consistent weeks. With Abe and me busy making our careers, my mother got busy with her boutique, but even the thriving of her own business, couldn’t protect her from being lonely. It turned out, my mother had a huge tolerance for alcohol and much little for being ignored by her husband. The indifference of my dad made her pick on the habit of depending on alcohol, so much that her morning breakfast was a slice of cheese and two glasses of wine. Well, at least there was fruit involved. Abe and I tried being there for her, but it wasn’t us she needed. It was her husband. It was his attention she craved, and for that, she had gone to the level of voicing her anger at the man she loved. But it wasn’t as helpful as she probably thought. It only back fired, creating more distance between them, where dad’s visit at home was reduced to once or twice in two to three months. And every time he did visit, there was a battle of words waiting for him. Eventually, it became a lifestyle. Never once did they even consider separating. I guess for both of them, it was their love for their children that had them holding onto each other in spite of such unhappy circumstances. Even if they fought, they made sure never to show their bitterness towards each other when we were around. It wasn’t like we didn’t know what was going on. But neither Abe nor I wanted to be a reminder of the conversations they had with each other, considering they were not very pleasant. Over a period of a few months of fighting and screaming, their love for us that acted as the sliver of hope ended too. My father finally decided to resort to violence. He would beat mom up every time he found her drunk. There were times he came home drunk and beat up mom for releasing his frustration. Mom didn't leave even then. I began hating my father for what he had become. Abe had started to shut us all out. My support was gone. My father kept torturing her and himself for god only knows what. Eventually, my mom stopped fighting back. Abe and I tried to stop him, but mom would push us out of the room and lock herself in with that monster, where he would continue to hit her through the night. It became a routine. She would wake up every morning, get drunk, pity herself and her life, wait for dad to be home and torture her. She stopped screaming too. I tried convincing her to run away, but she kept saying that Abe and I needed him, and she needed us. I told her we didn’t need dad. We could all run away. We could move out, live on our own. Dad can live with his mansion and his money. We don’t need him. But she didn’t agree. She had said, “Baby, you are all the strength I need to face the man you call your father. I don’t care what happens to me, I will die someday anyway. If not him, alcohol would kill me. But you, you and Abe, have your entire life ahead of you. You both have to grow old, be there for your fath– “. “You are seriously mistaken if you think I will support that man! That man means nothing to me. I would be long gone from this house if it weren’t for you.” I had cut her off. “Arya, you need to know your father, my Blane, is in there.” She said with a gentle smile and that caused sharp pain to slice through my heart. “Hiding behind all that anger and contempt. He loves you and Abe. He loves me too. He is just so caught up fighting this world that he has forgotten to show it. This is him crying for help and if hurting me helps him feel a little bit of himself, I'll be happy to, as long as he is here.” She had said as she caressed my cheek when I went to help her bathe. She had a huge bruise on her leg from the beating she got the night before. I wanted to run away, take her with me. But she never let me. “He will find it in himself to love me again.” She used to say. “He is my Blane. He will find his way back to us.” And I believed her. THAT was the biggest mistake I ever made…